The World Is a Book
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: Jean and Lucien take a European trip. Five parts: planning the journey, turmoil in Italy, realizations in France, reminiscing in England, and returning home.
1. Chapter 1

**The World Is a Book**

 _And those who do not travel only read one page_

PART ONE

"Jean, if you could fill these out for me, please. I'd like to submit everything as soon as possible," Lucien announced, putting a small stack of forms on the kitchen table.

She put down the rag she was using to polish the silver and came over to see what he was talking about. "What's all this for?"

"Passport application," he replied, as though this response required no further explanation.

"Why do I need a passport?"

"We're going abroad."

Jean could see he was in a mood. "I see. Where are we going, and how long will we be gone?"

"That is not precisely planned yet. I'll need your passport information before I make reservations. But I was thinking we would take a six-week trip to Europe for our anniversary. Five years of marriage requires something rather extravagant, don't you think?" Lucien told her with a small smile. Truth be told, he'd been organizing this for some time now, wanting to surprise her. However, as Jean had never left Australia, he couldn't simply whisk her away unannounced. This seemed like as good a time as any to reveal their anniversary trip.

"Six weeks! Lucien, we can't do that! What about Valerie? Is she coming with us?"

"I love our daughter very much, but I don't want her anywhere near us on our anniversary. No, she's going to stay with Matthew while we're away. Mattie and Alice are both going to help out. It's all been arranged," Lucien assured her. But upon seeing the skeptical look on his wife's face, Lucien began to falter. "Is that alright? I had wanted to surprise you with a romantic trip, but I know this is a bit unexpected. We don't have to go if you don't want to or if you think it wouldn't be good to leave Valerie…"

"No, it sounds wonderful! We'd talked about going abroad, but when Valerie came along, I didn't think it was an option anymore. But now that she's older, I think it's the perfect time to go. She isn't in school yet but she doesn't need me every moment of the day anymore," Jean rationalized.

Lucien nodded. "Yes, that was my thinking. It's hard to believe she's about to turn four years old," he realized wistfully.

"I know. She grows like a weed and gets smarter every day. It's almost frightening, isn't it?" Jean said with a smile.

"Brilliant and beautiful like you," he said, repeating the phrase he often used to describe their child.

Jean nodded. "Brilliant and beautiful like you," she agreed and corrected, as she always did. "Which reminds me, please make sure you warn Matthew to keep Valerie out of the morgue. I know Alice knows better, but you know how convincing Valerie can be when she tries. Living patients only, for the time being."

Lucien laughed. Their daughter had developed a near-obsession with Dr. Alice Harvey, wanting to be just like Alice in every way, particularly as a doctor. Valerie wanted to help her father with his patients as often as he'd let her, but Alice, probably being a woman, had a special sway over the little girl's interest. Jean wasn't surprised that the Blake genes had this effect. She was proud to raise a third generation of Dr. Blake.

"Well, I suppose I should fill all this out then, yes?" Jean sat down and sifted through the pages in front of her. "Have you got a pen?"

They spent the afternoon discussing their trip. They'd be flying to Sicily and catching a boat up the coast of Italy, spending a few days in Rome and Florence before going to Nice and Paris and finishing their trip in London and Oxford before flying home.

Jean was more and more excited the more they talked. She was making mental lists of all the things she'd need to buy. First on that list was a set of guidebooks for all the places they would go. She didn't want Lucien to just shepherd her around from location to location. Jean wanted to know and understand the things she was going to see. The world was so vast and she knew of so little of it. This may be her only opportunity to go anywhere, and she had no intention of wasting it.


	2. Chapter 2

PART TWO

Lucien, clad in his pajamas, sat on the end of the bed in the luxurious stateroom on the steamer ship, staring at the bathroom door with great concern. Every sound of retching made his heart ache.

"Jean, how are you doing, darling?" he called tentatively.

He was met only with the sound of pained moaning.

Lucien couldn't take it anymore. He stood up and knocked on the door. "Jean, I'm coming in."

"No, don't," she protested weakly.

That didn't stop him. He entered the small bathroom and found her kneeling on the floor, clutching the toilet seat for dear life. "Oh dear," he lamented, coming to sit down beside her.

"I'm disgusting. You shouldn't see me like this."

"I'm a doctor, and I'm your husband, and I promise I will still love you even if I hold your hair for you," he replied softly.

Right on cue, Jean vomited once again. Lucien gathered her hair behind her face and rubbed her back soothingly.

"There now, it's alright," he murmured.

Jean was breathing heavily, nearly in tears. "I think that's the last of it for now."

"Alright. Would you like to get up or do you just want to stay here for a while longer?" he asked.

"I think I'm going to wash up a bit."

He helped her stand and, at her gentle insistence, he went out into the bedroom to wait for her. After all, it was tight quarters in the bathroom, and he'd just be in her way. Lucien resumed his patient position at the end of the bed.

The sound of shuffling came and the door opened. Jean stood with one hand on her stomach and a pained expression on her face. "I think I'm alright for now," she said feebly.

"Come here, love," he said, opening his arms to her.

Jean came over and perched herself on his lap, nuzzling into him. His arms held her protectively and rubbed her back to soothe her. Lucien placed a small kiss on her hair.

He still couldn't quite understand how she'd gotten so violently seasick. They had taken many long, turbulent flights to get from Melbourne to Palermo. Not a single one had upset Jean's stomach in the slightest. Even Lucien, who had flown many times, was a little queasy from the constant changes in altitude. But now, on this giant ship, she could barely stand without vomiting almost as soon as they'd left port. She'd been on small boats on Lake Wendouree back home without any problem. Getting seasick on a larger craft just didn't make any sense. Perhaps the air travel had caught up with her? Or maybe something had given her food poisoning? But she hadn't eaten anything Lucien hadn't, so if she had gotten anything contaminated, he would have been sick too. Or could she…

"Jean, do you think you might be pregnant?" he asked, realizing that she may have morning sickness and not seasickness.

Her heart skipped a beat at his question. She hadn't even considered it. After all, she was edging right on fifty years old. True, she hadn't yet gone through the change, but it was only a matter of time now. "No, I don't think so," she replied. And she didn't think so. Jean had been pregnant enough times that she certainly knew the signs in her own body. But she suddenly realized that the last time she'd been sick like this had been thirty years before, when she'd carried Christopher Jr. Though, she'd never ever been on a ship like this before, so seasickness was just as rational an explanation. At her age, it was an even more rational explanation, wasn't it?

Lucien didn't say anything more about it. It was only a thought. And probably a foolish one. The odds of them conceiving at their age was improbable. Though not entirely impossible. And if she were to fall pregnant, it could be potentially very dangerous. There were a great number of risks involved in her pregnancy with Valerie, and the years since had only increased those risks.

Jean snuggled closer to Lucien, trying to ward off the anxiety that was now adding to her nausea. She concentrated on keeping her breathing even, staving off any panic threatening to overtake her. In her husband's arms, her heartrate began to slow down to normal, and she soon nodded off, weak and exhausted from feeling sick.

He felt the change in her breathing and realized she'd fallen asleep. Lucien held her in his arms for a minute longer, enjoying the comfort he was able to provide holding her in his lap like this. He then picked her up and gently deposited her under the covers of the bed and joined her after turning out the lights.

The rest of the boat trip proved problem-free. Any sickness Jean had experienced had faded. A day later, her appetite returned, and by the time they arrived in Rome, she felt perfectly fine.

Even so, a nagging little voice in the back of her head wouldn't leave her alone. Could she possibly be pregnant? Her monthlies had become irregular, but she just assumed it was the beginning of the change. Jean didn't want to voice her concerns, since there was nothing they could do but worry, and that would ruin the vacation. But even so, the thought wouldn't go away.

They spent a week touring every museum and church and historical site that Rome had to offer. Jean had read the guidebooks cover to cover in anticipation of all the things she was about to witness. And nothing could really prepare her for the wonder of the ancient ruins, the intricacy of the Renaissance paintings or the sheer majesty of the Baroque architecture. Everywhere she looked, there was something incredible to see.

Lucien hadn't been to Rome in decades, but the city hadn't changed much. He was able to get them from place to place in his broken Italian. Everything was worth it to see the excitement on Jean's face.

They tossed coins into the Trevi Fountain, each making a wish, neither knowing that they'd both wished for a lifetime of love and happiness with the other, a wish that was sure to come true. They hiked through the Roman Forum and climbed the Spanish Steps and toured the Colosseum. They visited the lavishly decorated churches, leaving an offering and lighting a candle at each one. They had a picnic in the gardens of the Borghese Villa and wandered the Via Veneto. Every day brought new magical experiences.

The place they were both most excited for came on their last day in Rome. They crossed Tiber River on the Ponte Sant'Angelo and walked down the Via della Conciliazione to enter St. Peter's Square.

Jean had never seen anything so overwhelmingly large or resplendent in all her life. The fountains spitting merrily on either side of the great, imposing obelisk. The columned portico stretching around them, the gleaming white angels atop. As they approached the splendid façade, the dome of the basilica disappeared, leaving them in the shade of the apostles atop the temple-style front.

Upon entering the church, Jean placed her veil upon her head before dipping her hand in holy water and crossing herself. "Lucien, this is more than I'd ever dreamed," she whispered.

Even Lucien had to admit it was rather wonderful. He was never one to pay much thought to religion, expect in respect to Jean's faith and the holidays when he joined her at mass. But in the heart of the Church, here at the Vatican, Lucien felt the presence of God.

They walked around the nave to see Michelangelo's great Pietà, the paintings by Raphael, and the epic statute decoration by Bernini. Both Jean and Lucien were in awe of all they viewed.

When they reached the chapel area on the right, a priest waved them over. Lucien explained, "Jean, if you'd like, I've arranged for an English-speaking priest to hear your confession."

Her eyes went wide. "You…really?"

"Only if you want to. It's entirely up to you. I don't know if you've got anything to confess. But I knew we wouldn't be able to attend a mass here, since they only perform them on special occasions. I wanted to be sure you got to do something at least."

She squeezed his hand. "Thank you. This is incredible."

Jean followed the priest to the confession booth, clutching her rosary. She wasn't gone for long, since she had been unprepared for confession. But the experience was overwhelming nonetheless.

When she returned to where Lucien was waiting, she was in tears. "Jean, is everything alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I just cannot believe that I'm really here. With you. At the Vatican. The Pope himself is somewhere in this building right now. And a cardinal just heard my confession and said the Hail Mary with me. It's all just so much," she babbled.

Lucien put his arm around her shoulders comfortingly. "I know. I hope it was a good experience?"

"Yes. Thank you so much for arranging it. I would have never thought to even try."

"Nothing about that in your guidebook, was there?" he teased.

She smiled and elbowed him gently in the ribs. They continued their circle around the enormous church, trying to take everything in. When they reached the very front, Jean paused. "If it's alright, I'd like to pray for a moment."

"Of course." Lucien sat in a pew off to the side.

Jean kneeled in front of the baldachin, its ornate bronze gilded with gold and decorated with vines and bees, symbols of the sponsoring pope, and quietly whispered her prayer. She thanked God for bringing her the love of her husband, the blessed life of her daughter, and the health of her friends and family. And she asked for guidance in her time of trouble. "If it be Your will to bless us with another child, please keep us safe and healthy." She crossed herself once more before standing up to join Lucien.

As they made their way out of St. Peter's and around to the back for the museum entrance, Jean felt her fears fall away. Their future was in God's hands, and she felt sure He would see them through, whatever that future may hold.


	3. Chapter 3

PART THREE

The gray weather in Paris could do nothing to dull Lucien's mood. Paris was the City of Lights, a city for lovers. He'd never been to Paris with a woman before. And being there with Jean, his wife, his love, was the most romantic, joyful thing he could ever imagine. He had specifically planned their trip so they would spend their fifth anniversary in Paris.

On their first day in the city, they spent their time just wandering the streets. From the grand boulevards to the small alleyways, everything was thoroughly charming. They walked along the Seine, watching the boats float along on one side of them and the cars rush by on the other.

There was a stretch of the riverbank that housed a long row of green-painted stalls. Men and women selling tourist trinkets, watercolor paintings by local artists, postcard pictures, and more books than anyone could imagine.

Jean slowed her pace as they passed the stalls, looking a little closer at the sellers' wares.

"Would you like to buy something?" Lucien asked, mentally preparing himself to translate a sales transaction. His French had been near-fluent at one point, but it took a bit more effort now; he was very out of practice.

"I think this would be a nice place to find something for Valerie," Jean suggested.

"Yes, I think so," Lucien agreed. "What do you think she would like? A little figurine she could play with?"

"Mmm, this might be nice." Jean pointed to a small model of the Eiffel Tower. She smiled. The real monument could be viewed from the window of their hotel suite. Lucien had outdone himself with their accommodations, in honor of their anniversary.

Lucien picked up the little souvenir and handed it to the shopkeeper, who wrapped it in paper in exchange for a few French Francs.

Jean had wandered along to look at the books. Lucien hurried to catch up with her. The bookseller had tried to engage Jean in conversation.

"Bonjour, monsieur. Avez-vous des livres pour les enfants?" Jean asked in stilted but perfectly correct French.

Lucien stared at her in shock as the shopkeeper showed some children's book, which Jean had asked for.

"Have you heard of any of these?" she asked.

He pointed to one of the books he recognized from his childhood. His mother had read to him in French constantly when he was a small boy. After she died, Lucien's father had gotten rid of everything in the house printed in French. It must have been too painful for Thomas. Lucien then and now wished he had more of his mother still in the house. And he suddenly was very excited by the idea of buying some books in French to bring home with them.

Once they had amassed half a dozen simple children's books with lovely pictures that Valerie was sure to love, Jean turned back to the bookseller. "Je voudrais acheter les livres," Jean said, indicating that she wanted to buy the books she was holding. The man wrapped the books in a parcel for them to travel with, and Lucien paid him.

As they went on their way with their purchases, Lucien addressed Jean. "Since when do you speak French!?"

She smirked proudly. "I didn't want to be completely useless on our trip, so I spent some time with Henry Dent for French lessons. He's the only person I know other than you who speaks another language, so it's the best I could do."

"It is truly amazing the way you still surprise me after all this time," he said with awe.

"Good, I'm glad. I wouldn't want you to get bored with me," she replied with a sneaky grin.

"No, never, love." Lucien put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple as they walked. "Speak some more French to me," he requested.

Jean laughed. She should have known he would take this as an opportunity to quiz her. "What do you want me to say?"

"Oh anything. Count to twenty, for all I care. I just love hearing French in your voice."

"You're just impressed I learned all this without you knowing, aren't you?" she accused teasingly.

"Well that too, but there's something about the way you speak French…it is incredibly sexy," he whispered in her ear.

Her eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed pink. She opened her mouth to respond, but Lucien gave her bum a light squeeze and she yelped, "My god, we are in public!"

"It's Paris, darling. I think we'd be getting strange looks if I _didn't_ do something like that. Now, please speak more French," he asked once more, grinning at her.

As much as she knew she should be, Jean couldn't possibly be annoyed with him. Five years of marriage and they still had the passion for each other they always did. The years hadn't dulled their lust, but it had changed it; where they once had the excitement of discovering each other, they now had the familiarity and comfort that opened up new possibilities. Like speaking French, apparently.

"Please?" he begged, blue eyes twinkling with desire.

Jean paused a moment, considering her words. "Je pense que…nous allons à l'hôtel et…aller au lit."

Lucien's face lit up as he translated her grammatical inaccuracies. "Oui bien sûr. Tu es trop beau pour que nous soyons en public maintenant."

She frowned. "I didn't get all of that."

"You told me that you think we should go to the hotel and go to bed, and I replied 'yes, of course. You are too beautiful for us to be in public now.'"

"Oh good," she replied, pleased that she'd gotten her point across accurately and that he was in full agreement.

The Blakes increased their pace, hurrying back to the privacy of their hotel room. Their excitement only increased as they practically ran down the hall, suppressing giggles at the silliness of their actions. Lucien's hand shook as he put the key in the lock. Jean's fingers trailing up and down his arm were no help.

As soon as the door closed behind them, they commenced a fiery kiss. The shopping parcels and Jean's handbag fell to the ground, ignored. Jean knocked the hat off Lucien's head and began pushing his jacket off his shoulders. He let it join the other discarded items on the floor and went to work on the buttons of her blouse, kissing and sucking on her neck as he exposed more of her flesh.

Jean tilted her head back and hummed happily at the intoxicating feeling of his beard on her sensitive skin. "I cannot believe we're going to make love in a hotel room in Paris in the middle of the day," she breathed.

"In French," he instructed.

She laughed. At that moment, Jean couldn't possibly think about translating a complicated sentence. But she did begin to murmur to him in French, as he had asked. "Je t'adore, Lucien. Je t'aime pour la vie et toujours."

He threw her blouse off her body and lifted her up, carrying her to the bed. "Pour toujours, mon amour. Je t'aime pour toujours," he vowed, promising to love her forever.

Jean gazed up at him, standing over her where she lay, half undressed. Her mind briefly flashed on her concerns from a week before, if perhaps she was already pregnant. But the thought flew away as swiftly as it had arrived. No use worrying about that now. Not when he looked at her like that. Nothing worrisome could ever happen when he looked at her like that. His eyes dark with lust, his smile peaceful and tranquil as he found his home in her loving embrace.

"Votre pantalon."

Lucien began to laugh at his wife's stern instruction regarding his trousers. He quickly removed his clothes, including the offending trousers, before pulling her skirt off her legs. Quite happily, he stood before her, fully nude, and took care in bringing her to a similar state. First came her brassiere, freeing her gorgeous breasts to him. He took one in each hand, squeezing and rolling the sensitive flesh, creating identical sensations in each simultaneously. Jean arched her back to him, and he put wet kisses along her collarbone, down between her breasts, and across her ribs until he reached the barrier of her foundation garment.

He moved his attention lower, unclipping her stockings and rolling them off her shapely legs one by one. Jean complied by stretching her leg out as straight as she could. He licked and nipped at her from her ankle and calf, all the way up her inner thigh. Jean's body began to vibrate as she felt the need for him grow within her. She wasn't sure how much longer she could stand it before he touched her where she needed him.

But Lucien took his time with her, removing the last of her underthings and worshiping every part of her body, whispering endearments in French on every inch of her skin.

"Please, Lucien," she begged, pulling him toward her with her legs around his waist.

He smiled as he kissed her, entering her at last. She moaned onto his tongue, and Lucien felt a shiver of pure arousal go up his spine. Jean shifted her hips to move with him, settling into their usual rhythm together. But before either of them got too close to finishing, Jean summoned her strength to roll their bodies. She settled herself on top of him moving up and down. His thrusts met her movements.

Lucien couldn't take his eyes off her. The way her body moved with so much erotic grace. The way she had a small smile on her lips from the pride of dominating him like this. The way she pushed her hair from her face as she panted from the exertion. He could see the shining layer of sweat form on her skin.

Jean forced herself to open her eyes to look at him. He had that look on his face. The one of pure, true love. She bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. Even still, being so beautifully loved by this man made her giddy with joy.

Lucien's grip on her hips tightened as he increased their speed. He was very close and couldn't control himself now. Jean knew those signs. She leaned forward on him, changing their angle. That, she knew, would allow him to reach exactly where she needed him. She moaned loudly as she felt it. She ground her hips on him, increasing the pressure. Lucien jerked and groaned underneath her, just as she felt her release. Jean kissed him lazily as she felt the waves of pleasure radiate through her. She rested her forehead on his as they both struggled to catch their breath.

Jean readjusted to lie directly on top of him. Her cheek rested directly above his heart. He stroked her hair with one hand and kept the other on her waist.

"I think when we get home, you should take over my French lessons," Jean suggested.

His chuckle shook both their bodies. "I quite agree."

"I was hoping you could teach me and Valerie both. That's why I wanted to get children's books for her. But I think perhaps it's better if we have our lessons after she goes to sleep," Jean realized.

"Oh yes. She already mocks us for kissing too much, as she says. And I know now that I won't be able to keep my hands off you if you're speaking French."

She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn't see her doe it. "Are you sure it's not just the language? It is terribly romantic-sounding."

"The French language has never done anything but make me think of my mother until I heard it in your voice and your accent and…I'm certainly not thinking of my mother now."

Now it was Jean's turn to chuckle. She turned her head and propped up her chin on her hands. "I'm glad of that," she replied, placing soft kisses on his beard.

Lucien glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "If my calculations are correct, with the time change, exactly five years ago from this exact moment, we were in the middle of reciting our wedding vows."

"I think we've done rather well keeping them," Jean noted.

"Quite. My favorite is still 'love and honor.'"

"Yes, we are good at that one. I quite like 'cherish and protect.'"

Lucien smiled, remembering that happy day. "I am glad I spoke to the justice of the peace about the vows."

"Did you? I didn't know that!"

"Yes, because with the civil ceremony, the vows are usually extremely short. I found text for the Catholic vows and made a few changes. 'Cherish and protect' being one of them, actually."

"I did remember the vows being different than when I was married in the Church, but I thought that was just because of the civil ceremony. I had no idea you wrote our vows."

Lucien specified, "Repurposed, is more like. I took elements from a few different versions and tried to come up with something that would work for us."

"That seems to be the theme to our entire relationship, it seems. Finding what we can, making it work for us."

"I suppose it is." Lucien placed a light kiss in her hair and sighed. "I cannot believe we've been married five years. It feels like just yesterday I ran down that bus and went with you to Adelaide."

"I remember it so clearly. I was so confused and scared and hurt and excited all at once. Rather overwhelming. But it also feels so strange that there was ever a time before we were in love. We had two years of it, I know, but that feels so very distant. We've both changed so much since then."

"Changes for the better, I think."

"Of course. Still, the five years has flown by."

"A symptom of being happy, I think."

Jean just hummed in agreement, smiling as she felt Lucien's heart beating and allowing its steady thrum to soothe her to rest.


	4. Chapter 4

PART FOUR

Jean had seen photographs of London, and she'd seen it in films, and she'd read about it all her life, but being there and seeing it for the first time, it was simultaneously better and worse than she'd imagined. Everything was dirty and foggy and full of smoke and grime. Paris had been dirty, but perhaps the foreign language had softened the blow. Hearing English in all the proper and improper accents, feeling like she stuck out like a sore thumb with her Australian dialect, it all made her terribly uncomfortable.

But she had Lucien. She had the privilege of seeing the city through his eyes. And his eyes saw it as he did when he was a mere lad of twenty, studying to be a surgeon. He was as excited as she'd ever seen him, because he got to relive those days with her, showing her all the places he'd gone and telling her all the things he'd done. His enthusiasm was contagious, and Jean thought that London must be the most wonderful city in all the world.

"This is where I lived," Lucien told her, pointing up to a very nondescript building of apartments above a pub.

"Why am I not surprised you lived above a bar?"

He grinned. "This pub was actually here back then. I'm glad to see it's still around. Shall we go in and have a pint?"

She scowled at him. "Lucien, I am not going to drink a pint of beer in the middle of the day in public. Actually, I don't think I would drink a pint of beer anywhere at any time."

"Oh come on now, it'll be fun. We can pretend I'm still a student and you're the lovely young woman who's come into the bar and I can fall in love with you all over again."

Jean knew he was just trying to be romantic, but his words rubbed her the wrong way. She bristled at the idea of being chatted up by him when they were young.

Lucien immediately saw the shift in her mood. He placed a hand on her arm with concern. "What's the matter, love? We don't have to have beer. We don't have to go in at all. What would you like to do?"

She gave a small smile. He was very sweet. "I don't know, I think all this talk of when you were young makes me think of when I was young. And I don't much like being reminded of how frightfully different we were, and how, if things had worked out just slightly different for either one of us, we may never have even met. And if we had, we wouldn't have wanted a single thing to do with each other."

"Jean, that simply isn't true! If we had actually met in this pub when we were young, I certainly know I would have tried to talk to you. I've seen photos of you when you were young from Christopher's house, you know. You certainly would have caught my attention. Though perhaps you're right, you wouldn't have given me the time of day," he chuckled. But his expression grew serious, and he tightly held her hands in his. "I can't possibly tell you how much I wish we…"

"No, don't say that," she interrupted. "We don't do that. We don't regret anything in our lives, who we were before. We can't. Because I know you wouldn't give up Mei Lin or Li for anything, just as I would never want to give up Christopher and my boys." Jean put her hand on his cheek, making sure he was looking her in the eye. "If we hadn't lived the lives we did, we wouldn't have found each other. So no regrets, alright?"

He nodded. "No regrets," he agreed. Lucien turned his face in her hand to press a kiss to her palm. "But just for the fun of it…" He took her hand and pulled her down an alley to the back of the pub.

"Lucien, what are you doing?"

He whirled her around, pinning her against the brick wall of the building and kissed her deeply.

Jean melted into the kiss, giving in momentarily. But lord only knew what sort of disgusting grime she was getting on her clothes from the wall. Even if being pressed up against her husband this way was quite nice. She pulled away. "Lucien, this is not Paris, we can't be doing this."

"This is what back alleys in London are for, I promise."

"Oh you have experience, do you?"

"A bit," he smirked. "I was twenty, after all. And just for fun, we're going to spend the day that way. And I'm a student and you're my girl, and I'm spending my day off showing my girl the city."

Putting it that way, she did sort of like the idea. "Well, if you're twenty, I'm…"

"We can both be twenty," he interjected, knowing the age gap between them would have been entirely inappropriate.

She nodded. "Good. I liked being twenty. Before that, I was a skinny thing with knobby knees and a flat chest and a face with entirely too many sharp features. After I had my first child, everything sort of softened."

Lucien pressed up against her again. "Mmm, you are quite soft. Soft and warm and beautiful."

Her heart beat a little faster as his hands roamed her body beneath her jacket, clawing at her blouse. "And what about you, hmm? Were you always this tall and muscular and gorgeous when you were twenty?"

He laughed. "I was this tall, yes, but I was about half the size before I was in the army and learned how to bulk up a bit. And I was clean shaven until I was nearly thirty. I thought the beard gave me more dignity as an officer."

"Well, if we are going to pretend we're twenty, please don't shave your beard. I wouldn't know what to do with you."

"You know, Valerie once asked me why I have whiskers and Uncle Matthew doesn't, and I told her that Uncle Matthew shaves his face and I don't."

"And what did she say to that?"

"She said she was glad I have whiskers because all men look the same and this way she can tell me apart from the others."

Jean beamed happily. Their daughter was an odd little person. So unique, so different than either of her parents or her half-siblings. A personality all her own. "You know I quite miss her. It's been over a month since we left."

"Yes, I miss her, too. I think we can try to call later in the day, with the time change."

He leaned in and nuzzled her hair, closing his eyes, thinking about their daughter. Valerie had been something of a fussy baby, but once she was about a year old, she had mellowed into the most charming child. The only trouble she gave anyone was in the form of far too many questions. Though, Lucien knew, that was bound to happen with Jean and himself as her parents. Curiosity and intellect were deep within her from the moment she was conceived. Lucien smiled to himself, lightly kissing his wife's neck. He had loved seeing her pregnant. It had brought them so much closer, anticipating the birth of their child and Lucien acting as Jean's doctor. It had been such a special, wonderful time for them. And, if it were at all possible, Lucien came to the decision that another pregnancy would be a joyous miracle. They could take every precaution and give Jean the best care available, and he knew that somehow, everything would work out. If she were pregnant. She probably wasn't. Not at her age. But even so, the idea of another child just filled his heart with hope.

"Lucien, despite pretending we're twenty, we certainly aren't, and I don't think we should be spotted necking in a back alley," she whispered as she stroked his hair, his face still buried in her neck.

He sighed, finally pulling away and freeing her from the wall. "You're probably right."

"Well then, where would you take me in your student days, hmm?" she asked, smiling brightly.

"Probably to the pub, so afterwards I could bring you upstairs to my room and have my wicked way with you," he replied with a lascivious grin.

Jean laughed, knowing that he was joking. "Then I'm glad you don't live up there anymore, but I would like a bite to eat, since we're here. And perhaps a pint or two."

"Or two?"

"Well, if I'm twenty years old and my chap is taking me out for the day, I'll get my money's worth. I was much more prone to foolish behavior before I had a life of responsibility, you know. Being the youngest child does give one a sense of safety that didn't shatter for me until I got married, actually," she explained.

Lucien smiled at the thought. "You know, I think if I did know you when we were twenty, you would have terrified me. You'd have chewed me up and spit me out and I would have been infatuated with you for the rest of my life."

"Well we aren't twenty, but I think we ended up at the same place, didn't we?"

"Quite right. You can chew me up and spit me out any day of the week."

"Wait until we get back to the hotel," she said under her breath, a suggestive glint in her eye.

Lucien laughed aloud and put his arm around her waist as they walked through the alley and into the pub. A pint or two might be just what they needed.


	5. Chapter 5

PART FIVE

Jean gazed out the window with a blissful smile, watching the scenery of Victoria rush by. It had been six weeks since she'd seen her beloved homeland. She'd barely ever left Ballarat, let alone left Australia. She had always wanted to, but she'd never been able to before this trip with Lucien. She should have known he would make good on his promise to show her the world. Europe had been wonderful. Perhaps sometime they would go to Asia or Africa or America. Jean quickly found that now she'd been _somewhere_ , she was itching to go _everywhere_. But that was a thought for another time.

"Everything looks different, somehow," she noted.

Lucien nodded. "That happens when you're away. Travel, I've found, changes a person's perspective. It isn't that anything actually looks different, it's that you're seeing it differently."

"I suppose that makes sense. We've seen so much on this trip. It's sort of strange to be going back home, finally."

"You remember the last time we took the train from Melbourne to Ballarat?"

She thought for a moment. "We almost always take the bus or just drive, since it's so much easier. When was the last time we took the train?"

"I believe, Mrs. Blake, it was our honeymoon."

"Oh yes, I think you're right. And if I recall, we didn't spend any of our time looking out the window during that journey."

He scooted very close to her, placing his hands on her arms and nuzzling her neck. "No, we didn't at all."

Jean turned her head toward him. "Care to recreate the memory? I know we're five years out from being newlyweds, so I understand if you're quite bored with me," she teased.

"Not on your life," he growled before claiming her lips hungrily.

They continued passionately kissing until the train whistle announcing the imminent stop in Ballarat sounded, startling them apart. Jean scrambled up. "Oh goodness, I have to fix my face before anyone sees us."

"I think you look quite lovely," he stated, admiring his work smearing her lipstick all over her mouth and mussing her hair.

Jean looked at him and stifled a giggle. "You've got my lipstick all over your beard. Come here," she insisted, taking the handkerchief out of his breast pocket and wiping his face. The pink wiped away, revealing the gray beard beneath.

A few minutes later, the train finally stopped. The Blakes disembarked, Jean watching carefully where she was going so she didn't lose her balance, and Lucien speaking with the porter about delivering their luggage.

Over the din of activity around the train station, a loud shriek of delight sounded. "Mummy! Daddy!"

Jean and Lucien turned, hearing the very familiar little voice. Valerie pulled away from Matthew and raced across the busy terminal and leapt into her father's arms.

"Hello, my lovely girl!" Lucien greeted happily, kissing her little cheeks and hugging her tight.

"Valerie, you shouldn't run away like that, you could get hurt," Jean scolded gently. But she reached over to stroke her daughter's unruly brown curls. "Oh I missed you, sweet girl," she said.

"I missed you, too, Mummy. I'm sorry I ran. I was excited," Valerie apologized.

Matthew made his way over to the Blakes, hobbling slowly on his cane. "Welcome back, you two." He turned his attention to the young child who had been in his care. "Valerie, you know you're not supposed to run off. Even to see your parents."

"I'm sorry, Uncle Matthew. I won't do it again," she promised.

"Let's get you all home. Alice is waiting with the car. Bloody woman won't trust me when I tell her that I'm the superintendent of police and I can park my car wherever I want," he muttered.

At the mention of Alice, Valerie got very excited again. "Daddy, Alice took me to the morgue! I got to help her do science!"

Jean got very cross. "Matthew! You promised!"

"You try saying no to both of them!" he lamented.

As soon as they arrived at the car, Alice greeted them happily. "Welcome home, all!"

Jean's eyes were very steely. "Alice Harvey, did you take my daughter to the morgue?"

Alice sighed. "Valerie, did you blurt again?"

Valerie got suspiciously quiet, burying her face in her father's shoulder.

"There were no bodies, I promise. That was the only reason I let her come with me. I was running blood samples, and I let her look through the microscope and hand me clean slides. That was all," Alice explained.

Jean sighed. It seemed that every single day, she was reminded that she was now raising a child that was half Lucien. Her boys had never been trouble like this. Christopher was always a very quiet, sullen boy, even before his father died. The most worry Jean ever did over him was whether he was really ever happy, and of course he was, in his way. Marriage and children had softened him. Jack had been a handful of a different sort, always getting into fights with other boys and being sent to the headmaster's office for mouthing off before he'd bolted from Ballarat and never looked back.

But Valerie...she was too energetic and curious for her own good. Just like her father. Other than the color of her hair and the shape of her mouth, Jean barely saw any of herself in their daughter. She was Lucien's girl through and through, and she loved them both dearly for it.

Jean's hand drifted to her stomach. She'd gained some weight with all the marvelous food they'd eaten on their trip. Yes, that was why her skirt was fitting tight.

Alice drove them all to the Blake house in Matthew's car. His leg had been bothering him, which prompted Lucien to fuss and worry about his medication and exercise regimen, which Alice had very little influence in convincing him to keep.

Just as they pulled up in front of the house, a wave of violent nausea overtook Jean quite suddenly. She felt herself involuntarily heave and slammed her hand over her mouth.

Lucien saw her strange movement from the corner of his eye and shouted, "Stop the car!"

"What, in the middle of the drive?" Alice scoffed.

"Alice, stop the car!" he insisted.

She did as he commanded. Jean opened the door and dashed over to the bushes, all of which were overgrown since she hadn't been home for six weeks to prune them. Lucien took Valerie off his lap and instructed her to go inside and see Mattie.

"Is Mummy alright?" she asked, worry evident in her big blue eyes.

"I'll make sure she is," Lucien told her gently. "Go inside, Valerie."

Matthew and Alice waited in the car, unsure of what to do. Jean was getting sick in the bushes. Lucien was ushering Valerie into the house before going to his wife.

"Should we go?" Alice asked awkwardly.

"I don't know what's happening. I've never seen Jean get carsick before," Matthew said.

Alice turned her head to look at him. "You know, I don't think that was motion sickness," she said cryptically.

"Then what is it?"

"I'm sure they'll tell us when they want to. Never you mind," she told him, a secretive smile playing on her face. She put the car in gear and did a three-point turn to exit the Blake residence.

Lucien gave them a curt nod and wave as they departed. He turned his attention back to his wife. "Jean, what's going on? What can I do?" he asked desperately. He was holding her hair back from her face, waiting for her to finish getting sick before handing her his handkerchief.

Jean started shaking. Part of it was from feeling sick. But most of it was from the confirmation of the fact that she wasn't actually sick. Without the unfamiliar rocking of the large ship, she wasn't distracted from what her body was telling her. She knew this feeling very well, the way it would come and go so unexpectedly. "Lucien, we need to do the test. Right now."

He wasn't entirely sure what she was talking about, and he didn't know how to respond.

She straightened up, feeling much better than before, and told him squarely, "I'm fairly certain this is morning sickness, but I need to know for sure if I've fallen pregnant."

Lucien took her inside to his surgery and closed the door firmly behind them. They'd greet the rest of the household later. This was more important.

His heart was pounding in his chest as he took a small sample of her blood, willing his hand to stop shaking as he inserted the needle into her vein. They didn't speak at all as they waited for the chemical marker to appear. This wasn't like the last time they'd tested for Jean's pregnancy; then, they had been excited and talkative and happy. Now, the prospect of Jean giving birth at age fifty filled them both with dread.

"It's positive," Lucien said, breaking the silence and showing her the test tube. "You are pregnant."

Tears immediately fell from Jean's eyes. Lucien held her in his arms, murmuring soothing reassurances that everything would be alright.

"I know everything will be alright. I know it will," she replied confidently, despite her voice cracking. She thought back to her prayer in St. Peter's. Somehow, everything would be just fine. Jean pulled away from him slightly to look into his eyes, her hands resting gently on his cheeks. "Lucien, we're going to have another baby!" she exclaimed, smiling through her tears.

He laughed, out of emotional release more than anything else. "Yes, darling, we are. It's going to be wonderful. I can't wait!"

They held each other quietly for another few moments. The joy and apprehension were mixing in the air around them. This was happy news. They would refuse to see it any other way. But they knew they needed to be ready for whatever was to come.

"I love you, Jean. Thank you for giving me a family," he whispered.

She just hugged him tight, closing her eyes, and silently praying to God once more to keep her family safe. When she finished, she released her husband from her embrace. "I think we ought to tell Valerie."

Lucien raised his brow, curious as to how their daughter would take this news. Regardless, he was excited to share it with her.

Hand in hand, Jean and Lucien left the surgery and went together to face whatever was coming.


End file.
